


Subtext

by LittleWhiteTie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aphasia, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Post-Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: An encounter with a druid steals away Keith’s ability to use words. It’s frustrating and isolating... and then it gets worse.Aggravation turns to despair when Keith finds out Shiro has a disease that feeds off of feelings of unrequited love. Shiro is in love with Keith, but is under the mistaken belief that Keith doesn’t feel the same way. It would be so easy to cure—if Keith could only tell Shiro how he feels. He'll have to find another way to show him.





	Subtext

**Author's Note:**

> Writing without dialogue is so hard, wow. Big thanks to [hchano](https://twitter.com/hchanooo) and [pancreaticanomaly](https://pancreaticanomaly.tumblr.com/) for beta reading for me, and to everyone else who encouraged me and gave me feedback along the way. I hope you enjoy it!

“Keith.” Allura’s voice is hushed over the comms. “He’s getting worse.” 

In the background, harsh, strained coughing reverberates through the chambers of the Blue Lion. Keith’s knuckles bleach white as he tightens his grip on Black’s controls. 

“He doesn’t want you to know,” Allura says, “but I thought you should.” 

_Why doesn’t he want me to know?_ he wants to ask. _Why doesn’t he want to travel with me anymore?_

It’s not because of the Black Lion. Keith could read it in the way Shiro wouldn’t look at him directly, in the space he kept between them. Shiro didn’t want to be here because of _him_ , and it hurt. 

He wants to ask why, ask what he did wrong, but he can’t. He literally, physically, can’t. 

“How are you doing?” Allura asks. “Are you alright?” 

He nods, though he doesn’t know what else she expects him to do when he can’t speak. 

“I’ll try again when we reach our next stop,” she vows. “But that druid’s curse is more complex than anything I’ve seen before.” 

A _thud_ from behind startles her. 

“I’ll go check on him,” she says with false calm, then leaps out of her seat.

She doesn’t disconnect the comm line, nor does she shut the door to the cockpit behind her, and soon, Keith can hear faint voices in the background. 

“Shiro, are you— what happened? What is this?” 

Shiro’s response is too quiet for Keith to make out the words.

“Please don’t lie to me,” she says.

Shiro says something, cut off by hacking coughs. Allura murmurs something in a soothing tone. He says something else, and she replies, “…Alright. I won’t.”

Keith can’t parse most of Shiro’s words, but he can pick out, “—Keith?”

“I won’t tell him. I promise.” 

Keith clenches his jaw. _What won’t you tell me?_

“Go lie down. I’ll clean up,” she says. “…It’s fine, Shiro, honestly. I’ll handle it. Just rest.”

It’s several doboshes before Allura returns to the cockpit. Her face is pale, drawn. Quietly, she asks, “Did you hear all of that?”

Keith shakes his head. 

“Well… good,” she says, though her averted gaze and pursed lips say otherwise. She’s easy to read when she wants to be, and she’s telling him loud and clear there’s something he’s missing. 

He tilts his head in question, but she shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry.” 

With a growl, he cuts the transmission with more force than necessary. He tucks his knees into his chest and squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s been three weeks since he faced off against that druid—three long, frustrating weeks—and the aphasia hasn’t shown any improvement. 

He never realized just how much he relied on words until now. Beyond the obvious difficulties that arise in leading the team, without being able to partake in conversations with the other paladins or even type commands, he has nothing to occupy his time as they travel back to Earth. He doesn’t have anyone to keep him company: his mom isn’t with them anymore, his wolf has decided he likes riding with Pidge, and Shiro left him for Allura. 

There’s nothing for Keith to do but stew in his own aggravation and worry. Worry about the state of the universe, worry about not being able to form Voltron, worry about Shiro. Shiro’s sick, and now it’s confirmed he’s hiding something. Something Allura won’t tell Keith about. 

Keith lets himself be angry. Because being angry is better than being afraid.

A ping from his personal device signals an incoming message: a photo from Allura. No, not Allura—there’s a green paw obscuring part of the photo, and the blue light falls around shadows with ears. The photo is from the mice.

Past the magnified paw is a waste bin, set against the blue of the Lion’s floor. It contains crumpled crimson flower petals, streaked with blood. 

Keith frowns. They haven’t set foot on a planet in weeks, and that planet didn’t even have flowering vegetation. The petals in the bin are fresh. Where did they come from? And why is there _blood_ on them? 

He can’t figure it out, so he opens the comm line to Hunk, Pidge, and Lance, and sends them the photo—maybe one of them can help figure out what this is.

“What the heck?” Lance asks. 

Hunk makes a disgusted face. “Eugh, is that—is that blood?” 

Pidge goes pale, a hand pressed to her mouth. She knows something. “This—this photo was taken inside the Blue Lion,” she utters. “…Shiro’s in the Blue Lion.”

Keith nods. 

“Shiro must have Hanahaki,” she says, quietly. 

“What’s that?” Lance asks.

“It’s a disease,” she says, “caused by a parasite that causes flowers to grow in a person’s lungs.”

“Oh, _ew,”_ Hunk says.

“It’s bad,” she says. “No one knows exactly how it works from a pathophysiological point of view, but the disease only manifests in people who’re experiencing strong feelings of unrequited romantic love. The parasite kind of... feeds off of those feelings.”

“That sounds like a fairytale,” Lance says.

“Maybe, yeah, but it’s legit. My mom worked with some researchers studying it. It’s real, and it’s…” Pidge’s eyes flit away from the screen. “…It’s fatal.”

Cold nausea floods Keith’s core. She’s wrong. She has to be wrong. 

“And you think Shiro has this?” Hunk asks.

“It looks like it,” Pidge says. “The hallmark symptom of Hanahaki is coughing up flowers. Shiro’s had that really bad cough for a while, and there isn’t anywhere else those petals could’ve come from.” 

Hunk swallows. “So Shiro’s in love and it’s… killing him?” 

“There has to be a cure,” Lance says, desperately. 

Pidge’s eyes glisten. “The only people who’ve ever gotten better are the ones whose feelings ended up being returned. Otherwise…” 

A grave silence falls over them. 

_How did he get it?_ Keith wants to ask. _Who is he sick for? How could they possibly not love him back?_

But nobody asks any further questions. They just sit there, not saying a word. 

Keith drives his fingernails into the meat of his palms and wills his lip not to tremble. They’ll figure something out. They _will._ They _have to._ He digs his nails deeper, deeper.

Sensing his distress, his wolf poofs into the Black Lion’s cockpit next to him. At the base of the seat, he nuzzles Keith’s leg, offering comfort. Keith drops to his knees and clings to him with his eyes squeezed shut, burying his face in long, thick fur. 

They fly in sombre silence until they reach the next star system, setting down on an ochre swirled planet with a dry, dusty surface. Occasional gusts of wind blow swirls of particles in the air. Readings show it’s safe to breathe here, though oxygen levels are on the low side. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Shiro to go outside here,” Pidge says. 

“Agreed,” Allura says. “He’s resting anyway. Keith, I’ll look at that curse again. Why don’t you come over to the Blue Lion?”

Immediately, the wolf teleports him into the Blue Lion’s cockpit. Allura jumps in her seat at the sudden intrusion, but relaxes quickly. 

“Okay. The rest of us’ll be back in a few vargas,” Lance says. “Take a look around, stretch our legs; give the Lions a little time to recharge.”

The wolf vanishes to join them, leaving Allura and Keith alone in the cockpit. She surveys him, taking in his pinched brow and drawn shoulders. “Keith, what’s wrong?” 

Keith pulls out his personal device and shows her the picture sent by the mice.

“Do you know what this is?” she asks in a hushed voice.

Keith nods.

“It’s bad, then,” she surmises.

Tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He can’t look at her directly. He taps his throat and slides down to the floor of the cockpit. 

“Of course,” Allura says, kneeling over him. “Let’s get started.” 

Keith closes his eyes. Her magic is warm and cool at the same time. Carefully, it pulls, explores. It’s strange, but not unpleasant, and he finds himself drifting off.

Eventually, the magic tapers out. “Alright,” she says.

He snaps his eyes open and sits up, facing her. She’s drained.

“That’s as much as I can do for now,” she says. “I’m starting to get a clearer picture of what’s been done to you, but it will take some time for me to figure out how to undo it. I don’t know how long. I’m sorry.” 

He places a hand on her arm, thanking her. 

“Go ahead and catch up with the others,” she says. “I can stay here with Shiro.”

Keith shakes his head, pointing at himself, and then the floor. _I’ll stay._ He gestures at her and nods toward the Lion’s mouth: _you_ _go ahead._

She presses her lips together. “If you’re sure. If you need anything, call, and we’ll come right back.” 

He nods and heads down to where Shiro is resting. He picks up the pace when he hears coughing. It’s persistent and doesn’t let up until a door slams shut, cutting it off abruptly. 

When Keith reaches the belly of the Lion, Shiro isn’t in bed. The lights of the tiny bathroom are on, the door sealed shut. Keith knocks on the door. No answer. He knocks again, more desperate this time. 

“I’m—I’m okay,” Shiro gasps, voice barely audible through thick steel. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

_No_ , Keith wants to say. _I will always worry about you._ But all he can do is wait until the toilet flushes, the water runs, and the door opens from the inside.

Shiro staggers out as he wipes the back of his mouth with his wrist. Keith moves to steady him, but Shiro recoils. “Keith? What are you doing here?” 

Keith deflates. _Don’t look_ too _excited to see me, now._ He points to the cot. Shiro makes his way there on his own, refusing Keith’s proffered arm. 

As soon as Shiro drops to a seat, Keith takes out his personal device and shoves it in his face, showing him the picture the mice took of the petals. 

Shiro blanches, then grits his teeth. “So much for keeping a secret.”

Keith takes a seat beside him. He half expects Shiro to move away when he scoots closer, but he stays where he is.

“I’m guessing you know what this is, then,” Shiro says. “What it means.”

Keith nods. 

“So you understand why I stopped travelling with you.” 

Keith shakes his head.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Shiro says. “But I didn’t want you to find out it was Hanahaki. I didn’t want you to blame yourself.” 

Keith points at himself, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s not your fault. You can’t help the way you feel, or don’t feel, about me.”

Keith points to the photo, then to himself again, disbelief plain on his face. 

Shiro gives him a small smile. “Yeah. You. Of course it’s you. I know you only see me as a brother, but I still…” 

Keith shakes his head and surges forward to kiss him.

Instead of meeting his lips, Shiro pushes him away. “Keith, what are you doing?” 

Keith levels him with a flat stare— _what does it look like I’m doing?_ —and leans in again, slower this time. 

“Keith, no,” Shiro says, holding him back with a firm grip. “I appreciate you trying, I really do, but that’s not how this disease works. You can’t just fake it.” 

Keith shakes his head. He pats his chest. _It’s real. There’s nothing fake about it._

“You can’t just force yourself to fall in love with someone,” Shiro says. “Even if you wanted to.” 

Keith shakes his head more vigorously and grabs Shiro’s hand with both of his, placing it over his heart.

“I know,” Shiro says. “What we have… It should be enough, shouldn’t it.”

Keith shakes his head again, desperate. _That’s not what I meant._ He thumps Shiro’s hand against his chest. _Listen to me._

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Shiro whispers. 

_No. No, don’t be sorry._ Tears gather in his lashes _._ He squeezes Shiro’s hand too tightly, beating it against his chest again. _Listen to me!_

“Hey,” Shiro says, bringing his forehead to rest against Keith’s. “It’s alright. You’ll be okay.” 

A sob escapes Keith’s throat as the tears spill over and down his cheeks. _No, no, no._ He can’t— he can’t _—_

Shiro starts coughing again. He pushes Keith away and reaches for the bucket. As he coughs and coughs, clusters of red petals tumble from his lips and into the bin.

It takes far too long for the fit to subside. Finally, Shiro sets the bin down and slumps over, heaving for breath. 

Keith keeps him from falling over and carefully guides him to lie on his side. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, eyelids fluttering. “...Think I need to rest more, but we can talk later, okay?”

Keith gives a light snort.

“Right,” Shiro says, his lips just barely quirking up. “You know what I mean.” 

_But you don’t know what I mean._

Cautiously, Keith reaches forward to touch Shiro’s face. He cups his cheek and smooths the pad of his thumb over Shiro’s cheekbone. The gesture is tender, intimate. 

Shiro’s lips part, eyes going wide for a moment. “Keith?” he whispers. 

Keith’s gaze is soft as he strokes Shiro’s cheek. He stays like that until Shiro’s eyes fall shut. 

After he’s asleep, Keith lies down and tucks himself against Shiro’s body. He presses his ear to Shiro’s chest. His breath rattles, too shallow. 

There’s not enough room in Shiro’s lungs, and it’s all Keith’s fault. 

_You’re my brother._ He should have explained better what he’d meant: _you’re the family I’ve always wanted. You’re everything to me._ But he’d stayed quiet, left room for misinterpretation, and now, Shiro’s suffering for it. Dying because of it. 

Tears spill sideways down his face. He buries his face in Shiro’s shirt and cries until he falls asleep.

...

Keith’s training has made him a light sleeper, and he wakes as soon as Shiro stirs. 

“Keith? You’re… still here?”

Keith nods. _Of course I am._ His fingertips skim over the curve of Shiro’s cheekbone before skittering to his jaw, angling his face to look into his eyes and holding his gaze.

Shiro starts coughing. Keith helps him to sit up and holds the waste bin for him. He winces as too many red petals work their way past his lips. There’s no room in his lungs for air at all.

He lets Shiro slump against him when he’s done, staying like that until he catches his breath again. When Shiro pulls back, Keith picks up Shiro’s helmet and tips his head toward the Lion’s mouth.

“You want us to go outside?”

Keith nods.

“Alright.”

Keith places Shiro’s helmet over his head and helps him to his feet, guiding him toward the exit. 

“Where are we going?” Shiro asks once they step out onto the ramp.

Keith points to the Black Lion, a short distance away.

“Oh,” Shiro says. “…Okay.”

He gestures at the Black Lion, taps his wrist, then back toward the Blue Lion. _Just for a bit. Then you can come back, if you want to._

Shiro tilts his head, not understanding what Keith is trying to say. Keith tries again, but Shiro just says, “I’ll follow your lead.” 

Keith walks with Shiro toward the other Lion. Grit kicks up from the planet’s surface and stings Keith’s exposed, helmet-less face, irritating his throat when he inhales too deeply. 

Shiro is winded after a few paces and falters moments after they set foot on solid ground. Keith catches him, steadying him as he coughs up petals that get trapped behind his visor. 

Keith considers turning back, but this important. Worth the risk. He slips Shiro’s arm over his shoulder and bears his weight as they make their way to the other Lion, one step at a time.

When they finally reach the Lion’s jaws and enter the cockpit, Shiro all but collapses, too drained for grace. Keith brings them to sit on the floor and takes Shiro’s helmet off. He brushes the petals that escape from Shiro’s shoulders and chest.

After Shiro’s breathing has evened out a bit, Keith gestures around them, then brings his fingertips to his temples and closes his eyes. He peeks his eyes open to see if Shiro caught that.

Shiro’s brow furrows as he tries to decipher what Keith is trying to say. “You want me… to focus. On the Lion.”

Keith rolls his wrist, gesturing for him to keep going. He waves at everything around them, then points to his eyes, closing them again with intention. 

“You want me to see through the Lion’s eyes,” Shiro guesses. “Go into its consciousness.”

Keith nods.

“I can’t do that anymore,” Shiro says. “My connection was severed.”

Keith grabs his hand and squeezes tight, nodding resolutely.

“But I—I can try. For you.” 

Keith smiles and laces their fingers together.

Desperately, he wills the Black Lion to connect with Shiro. Please. _Please._ He needs this. They need this.

It takes a few tries—reaching, grasping, pleading—but eventually, Shiro’s presence flickers into the shared mind space. It’s faint, but it’s there. He can do this.

Keith can’t remember how to use words, but he can project his emotions. So he tears his heart open and lets his feelings bleed through the bond.

He focuses on the way, even after all these years, his heart leaps into his throat when he looks at Shiro; the way it leaps higher still when Shiro’s lips pull up into a smile. How his breath catches when his name rolls off Shiro’s tongue. How his nervous system is set ablaze with each glancing touch. 

He digs deeper and draws out the raw, ugly emotions he’d tried to hide and hide from. The jealousy he’d felt back at the Garrison whenever he saw Shiro with Adam, the way he’d cried himself to sleep when he’d found out they were engaged. The horrible spark of joy that had sprung forth when Adam broke it off. The shameful pleasure he’d indulged in so many nights when he’d close his eyes and think of Shiro. The constant, painful longing that never went away, only grew stronger with time. He wants, still wants. Wants to kiss, touch, taste, fuck. Wants all of him, in every way. 

He pours everything he has into the Lion’s space and lets loose the vast, all encompassing love that consumes and overwhelms him. It’s more than _I would die for you_ ; it’s _I will die if I’m without you._ It’s terrifying. It’s immeasurable. Shiro is his world, his universe, everything. 

He strips himself bare, bleeds himself dry. When there’s nothing left to reveal, Keith opens his eyes.

Tears trickle down Shiro’s cheeks. “Keith,” he whispers, releasing a shuddering breath. “I… You…”

Keith nods. He brings both hands to cradle Shiro’s face, runs his thumb over Shiro’s lower lip. Shiro’s white lashes flutter closed.

Keith leans forward. His lips and teeth and tongue won’t give him syllables, but they can give him this. 

When their mouths meet, the kiss is slow, insistent, tender, desperate. It's everything Keith has, everything he can give. It’s all the _I love you_ ’s that went unsaid; all the things he wants to say. 

The tones that greet Keith’s tongue are sickly sweet with an iron finish, but he doesn’t shy away. He kisses him and kisses him until Shiro pulls back, gasping for breath.

Shiro starts coughing. Panic ices over Keith’s veins. It—it wasn’t enough? But—

Crimson petals and blood spatter the floor of the Black Lion. More and more come, progressing from petals to entire flowers. Shiro coughs and coughs, his lips turning blue from lack of oxygen.

Keith’s heart lodges in his throat. There’s nothing he can do but watch flower after flower tumble past Shiro’s lips. Flowers, and then— something else, thin and branched and coated in crimson. 

Roots. 

They’re _horrifying_. But they’re out _._

Shiro collapses in Keith’s arms. He’s unconscious, but he’s breathing better, deeper. The rise and fall of his chest is steady; there’s no rattle. 

Keith rests Shiro’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t move until Shiro wakes.

Eventually, Shiro makes a quiet noise in his throat. “Keith.” His voice is shot, a ragged whisper. 

Keith places a hand over his chest and tilts his head, a question in his eyes.

The corners of Shiro’s lips curve up as he tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair and drags him down for a chaste kiss. “Yeah,” Shiro says, smiling against his lips. “I’m alright. I’m gonna be fine.” 

…

The following weeks are quiet in the Black Lion, but the silence is bearable with Shiro at Keith’s side.

And eventually, Allura begins to unravel the druid’s curse.

Keith’s library of words is a mess, the contents of his lexicon all mixed up and scattered, and putting them back together is a dizzying struggle. His hand falters over letters; his tongue stutters over syllables. There are too many consonants, too many shapes to each vowel, too many ways they fit together. 

But one string of letters comes easy, soft and smooth. An anchor in his sea of word fragments, safe and familiar. His mouth moves just right as he breathes, “Shiro.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/littlewhitetie)!


End file.
